


encore

by jilliancares



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Fuck Or Die, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Performance Sex, Voyeurism, except more like fuck or not obtain an important alliance asldkfja, kind of, only bc they didn't really volunteer to have sex in front of a crowd, sex in front of a crowd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24904939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares
Summary: In order to score an important alliance, the two most "compatible" members of Voltron must fuck in front of the king and all his people. Surely, the device won't choose Keith...
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 890





	encore

**Author's Note:**

> alkdsjf posted about the idea for this fic on twitter and the general consensus was "um yes please" so here it is 😌

By all means, it should be another boring, normal day.

Visiting new planets and meeting new kinds of aliens lost its novelty early on. Years into the war, forming alliances and going to banquets and charming the political parties of different planets just became _work_.

Keith doesn’t hate it, by any means, but he certainly doesn’t enjoy it as much as Lance does. Or, at least, as much as Lance pretends to.

He’s pretty sure Lance is pretending, anyway. It can be hard to tell with him. But Lance will groan and gripe on the bridge of the castle-ship only to step into the planet’s palace and charm everyone he meets with a smile on his face. Keith still can’t figure out how he does it — where he finds the _energy_ — after all these years. Keith usually decides to linger on the edges of these things, hoping his expression is enough to deter people from talking to him.

What’s worse, there’s no real formula to these things. Sometimes they show up and the aliens are happy to see them. They’ll lead the discussion, join the coalition without any trouble, and then send them on their way without even forcing them to party and socialize with their people afterwards.

Other times, they arrive and are immediately plied with tasks or requests. Sometimes they have to bring incredible gifts in order to convince these people to join. Other times they have to make insane promises, or complete some sort of trial, just to earn the trust of some species that should join the coalition more for their own safety than for Voltron’s not-so-dire need to recruit another small, moderately powerful planet.

When they enter the throne room, Keith foolishly allows himself to believe that this planet is going to be one of the former. That the king will agree easily and send them on their way.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Mere minutes after the introductions are made, the king gives a long-winded, superfluous speech that basically sums up to: _Me and all my people are perverts._

Allura would likely berate him if he said that out loud, even though all of them are probably thinking it. Sure, it’s another culture and it’s their way of life, but _still_. Shouldn’t these people respect _their_ culture?

Allura doesn’t even consult them when the king stops talking — she just agrees. It makes sense, of course. They all would’ve agreed anyway, because unlike a majority of the people they recruit, they actually really, desperately need this alliance. These people have enough power that they could feasible recapture a whole quadrant of the Galra’s territory, and that’s an opportunity they can’t pass up.

Keith just wishes two of them didn’t have to fuck in order to make it happen.

Because that’s what the king meant, right? His long speech was a roundabout way of saying _two of you are going to fuck right here in front of me and all my people, or else this alliance isn’t going to happen._

As long as it’s not Keith, he can live with it. It’d just be too weird. He knows his friends too well, and although there is one person Keith wouldn’t mind doing that with… well, it’d never happen. And even if it were someday going to happen, by some miracle, there was no way Keith would let it happen in front of an audience.

He assumes they’re going to get to pick. They should be _allowed_ to pick. By all means, send Lance and Allura out there — Lance would probably get a kick out of it.

But then one of the king’s aides comes out of a side room, and Keith is suddenly all too aware of the hush in the room — the rows and rows of people lining the chamber, sitting eagerly in their seats as they look down on them all.

Why hadn’t Keith noticed that this place looked like an arena when he first entered?

“We will now perform the test,” the king announces, and a whisper rises in the stadium. Keith is standing completely still, feeling awkward in his own skin. Pidge, beside him, is matching the color of her armor. Hunk looks equally nervous, if not as disgusted. “These devices will analyze who has the highest compatibility among your members.”

The whispers rise into actual conversation. Keith feels his palms sweat.

The aide crosses the floor, coming toward them, and Keith’s trying to do some hasty mental calculations.

There’s no way Pidge is compatible with anyone, considering the fact that she doesn’t even like sex. So she’s out.

Keith can’t help but think that Lance is the most likely person to have to head out there. He’s always flaunted his attraction around, and though Keith’s pretty sure he’s usually exaggerating for the humor of it all, that doesn’t mean there’s no attraction there at all.

Which leaves the question: who is Lance most attracted to?

Keith leans forward slightly, trying to get a look at Lance, and finds him looking particularly queasy as well. He must be thinking something along the same lines as Keith.

The aide reaches them, and she presses a small device into each of their hands — it looks like a single earbud.

“It goes into your ear,” she explains, which Keith does reluctantly once she reaches him.

“This should only take a moment,” the king says, his hands folded pleasantly on his lap.

A holoscreen pops up in front of Keith — in front of all of them — and codes start running on it in another language. Every few seconds, one of their screens flashes red and buzzes, as if eliminating an option.

Pidge’s stops running first, the screen remaining red in front of her.

Next comes Shiro, and then Hunk, and Keith feels clammy and anxious as he stares hard at his screen, willing it to go red before Allura’s does.

And then, because the universe must hate him, Allura’s screen flashes red and stays that way, much to her apparent relief.

Keith exchanges a horrified look with Lance, the both of them standing there awkwardly as the crowd cheers. The king is smiling pleasantly, gesturing them forward, but Keith’s legs feel locked in place.

“Congratulations!” the king says. “A bed will be brought in shortly. Your friends are free to stay and watch should they desire.”

“Absolutely not,” Lance chokes out. He has his arms crossed, and he’s avoiding looking at any of them.

“Of course,” Allura says weakly. “We can wait in the hall.”

“This is insane,” Pidge mutters, still standing beside Keith. He can’t even make himself agree — he’s having trouble remembering how to speak.

One by one, their friends turn in place and trail out of the throne room, disappearing out the doors they’d entered from. Keith manages to sneak a look at Lance as a group of the king’s servants carry a huge, four-poster bed into the room.

Lance is already looking at him. “This’ll probably be something we laugh at in a few years’ time,” he manages.

Keith finally regains use of his legs. He sidesteps closer to Lance, feeling like an alien in his own skin. It’s weird, because Lance is the one he’s going to have to have sex with. But he’s also the only one here that he knows, the only person he can draw comfort from.

“Hope so,” Keith mumbles.

“I’d make a joke about you being attracted to me, but then I’d be dissing myself, too,” Lance says. How is he somehow, constantly able to make light of a bad situation?

“Paladins!” the king calls, and this time Keith manages to cross the room — though only because Lance grabbed him by the elbow. “We’ve provided everything you’ll need,” he says, gesturing to the bed. There’s a table beside it with all sorts of creams and devices piled on top. Keith doesn’t allow himself to look long. “The copulation will continue until the completion of both parties.”

Lance shoots him an amused look and Keith has to fight back a smile, finding the humor in it too. _Okay,_ he thinks, _at least this isn’t the worst possible outcome_. If Keith were here with anyone else, he’d probably be about to throw up.

“Right,” Lance says, and Keith silently thanks him for taking the lead. “Is there any specific way you want us to do this, or…?”

“We’ll let you know,” the king says, and Keith stiffens. Not only are they going to be watching, they’re also going to be providing… commentary?

Jesus Christ.

“The aides will now help you change into the ceremonial garb,” the king says, splaying his arms outward, and then a girl grabs Keith by the arm and leads him to a door behind the king. Lance is led to a separate door, and they exchange a single, panicked look before they can no longer see each other.

The girl assisting Keith isn’t very talkative, but then, neither is he. He can’t help thinking of Lance in his own room, with his own assistants, probably talking their ears off. Asking questions, making jokes, commenting on every little thing.

Keith just stands there, allowing himself to be slathered in lotions, stripped, and dressed. The clothes he’s given are white and so thin they’re practically see-through. They’re barely even clothes — more like a tiny, sheer robe.

“This way,” the aide says, once she takes him back into the chamber, and he follows behind her to find an equally uncomfortable-looking Lance standing where he left him, his arms held stiffly by his sides. Keith comes to a stop beside him, neither of them exchanging looks.

“Wonderful,” the king says. “There are drinks on the table for you to consume before you begin.” He gestures to the bed again, and this time Keith manages to walk on his own accord, trailing after Lance.

The table does indeed have two chalices on it filled with what almost looks like wine, if wine were carbonated. It’s hard to just stare at the glasses, however, when the table is also covered in at least seven different kinds of lube and twice that many sex toys, though they don’t look particularly… human.

“What are the odds we’re being poisoned,” Lance jokes, picking up both cups and handing one to Keith.

“Not sure if I would mind that much, at this point,” Keith murmurs. Lance raises his glass and Keith cheers’ his against it, and then they both raise the goblets to their mouths.

It tastes sweet. Not like alcohol, unfortunately, but there’s definitely some sort of buzz in Keith’s veins. Maybe the king just wants them to stay hydrated.

Once they’ve finished their drinks, the king gestures to the bed. “The potion should kick in any minute now,” he says helpfully.

“Potion?” Keith says, and he realizes that his voice sounds louder than usual, as if the bed and its surrounding area are amplified…

“Indeed. It’s most often taken on wedding nights. It’s a bit of an… enhancer,” the king says.

“Horny juice,” Lance whispers to Keith, elbowing him in the side.

“I got that.”

Unfortunately, he’s starting to feel it, too. Like arousal, but less subtle. Heat trickling through his veins, making the brush of his robe against his thighs feel electric. His heart’s already pounding, and he feels flushed and warm. Even still, something inside him cries out for a warmer touch — for Lance’s touch.

For a moment, they just stand there, and Keith wonders if he’ll ever be able to move. What’ll happen if they both just stay there, frozen, until the potion wears off entirely? Having this many eyes on him is hard enough normally, but while naked? While _fucking_?

They’ll fail the alliance. The king and all his people will be pissed. Allura will be disappointed, even if she won’t outright berate them for not being able to follow through.

That’s what Keith’s thinking, anyway, before Lance grabs his hand. His touch is soft and light, a gentle intertwining of their fingers as he takes a step back and pulls Keith with him, leading them both toward the bed.

“Just pretend there’s no one else here,” Lance advises in a whisper, but even that whisper is amplified. It could’ve been said into a microphone for how loudly it comes out. The audience is going to hear their every word, every sound, every _breath_.

“I’d be nervous even if it was just you,” Keith mutters, and the look on Lance’s face belies his own anxiety. At least he’s not perfectly comfortable with this either.

It feels as if in between blinks Keith manages to make it onto the bed. It’s a four poster, sure, but there are no curtains hanging from it, and only two pillows laying decoratively at the head of the bed. Nothing for either of them to lean against.

So they stay sitting up, both situated in the middle of the bed, staring awkwardly into each other’s eyes. Despite everything, the potion is drawing a reaction out of Keith — he can feel himself getting hard, embarrassingly enough.

“Your species is familiar with kissing, yes?” the king says, and Keith jumps, almost having forgotten they were being observed. Directed, really.

“Yes,” Lance answers. And, getting the hint, he leans in.

His hand finds the side of Keith’s face, cupping it as his other hand land on Keith’s hip, his touch burning hot through the sheer clothing he’s wearing. It should be a simple kiss — chaste — but the potion changes things immediately. It’s as if Lance’s mouth is a match lighting a fire inside him. One moment they’re sitting there, lips just barely brushing, and the next Keith is gasping, wrapping his arms around Lance’s neck, pressing desperately closer in a bid for more.

Lance moans and Keith feels it on his tongue, hears it in his ear, hears the _echo_ of it all around him. There almost isn’t even a technique, just Lance’s lips on his, Lance’s tongue delving into his mouth, Lance’s teeth nipping at his lips.

Keith manages to pull away for a second, gasping for breath, and Lance pushes him backward onto the bed while he’s distracted. Keith sprawls out, Lance climbing on top of him, and then Lance’s lips are at the corner of his jaw, the heat of his mouth trailing down until he’s kissing just above his collarbone, sucking and biting and making Keith cry out, arching up into his thigh.

It’s electric. Like nothing Keith’s ever felt before, and when he opens his eyes, he sees the crowd around him, staring eagerly down at the two of them. Now that Keith can see them, he realizes that he can _hear_ them, too — cheering, yelling, moaning. Keith lays there for a moment, unable to drown them out and feeling shy all over again, feeling embarrassed and awkward and desperate to be anywhere else but here—

“Don’t pay attention to them,” Lance breathes, directly into his ear. The words are hot against his skin, his breath sending shivers down Keith’s body, raising goosebumps all along his arms. “Pay attention to me.”

“Lance,” Keith gasps, and then he hears clapping, hears the king’s voice over the roar of the crowd.

“The red paladin,” his voice rings out, and Keith stiffens. “He seems to be the shyer of the two.”

“I’ve never had sex in the company of others before,” Keith says dryly, unable to keep his voice completely free of malice.

“Blue paladin,” the king says. His voice sounds oddly ominous. “Your job is to make the red paladin lose control. If my subjects aren’t pleased with the enthusiasm of your performance… Well, let it be said that this tradition is important to my people.”

Lance’s look shares all the disbelief Keith feels himself. “Your Highness,” he says.

The king shrugs, already dismissing Lance. “By all means, continue.”

Lance sits there for a moment, practically laying on top of Keith, and then he grimaces slightly. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding scarily genuine, and then he scrambles off of Keith.

“Lance,” Keith says, moving as if to follow him, but it’s as if Lance has entered battle mode. He moves swiftly, almost a blur before Keith’s eyes, and then he’s behind him, pressing against the back of him. He traps Keith’s hands easily, yanking the tie out of Keith’s robe and using it to tie his hands behind his back. And without the tie, his robe falls open, and Keith’s facing the crowd, even more bare than before…

He can feel the blush rising from his chest and up his neck. His face and ears burn, helpless and put on display, but despite it all, Lance’s hands are gentle on him, his lips soft against the back of Keith’s neck.

His left hand reaches around Keith, roaming across his chest, down his stomach, and Keith feels his cock twitch in anticipation. Lance ignores him, though, his hand climbing back up, his fingers circling around Keith’s nipple, teasing, taunting, as Keith sits there in mortification.

He’s so concentrated on Lance’s left hand, so ready for him to finally touch his nipple, that he has no time to prepare for his right hand, wasn’t even expecting it. Lance wraps his hand around Keith’s cock, already stroking quickly and surprising a moan out of Keith. His moan turns into a whine once Lance’s left hand pinches his nipple, harder than Keith was expecting.

“They’re cheering for you,” Lance says. He doesn’t whisper it, this time, and Keith hears his voice loud and clear, knows the rest of the audience hears it, too. “They’re watching _you_. Cheering for your sounds, your body.”

“Lance,” Keith groans, and he jerks into Lance’s hand on accident. He shouldn’t find it hot. He still _does_ find it mortifying, except… It’s something about Lance, he thinks. The words he’s saying, or his hands on Keith, or the fact that he figured out just what to say to make this situation embarrassing in a weirdly hot way.

Keith knows Lance has to do it in order to secure the alliance. He _knows_ this is all for show, all for the king and his audience to enjoy, but he can’t help thinking that Lance would be like this even if they were on their own. Not presenting him to a crowd, of course, but getting under Keith’s skin, finding out the things that Keith hadn’t even realized makes him tick.

“Feel good, babe?” Lance says, and the pet name does something to Keith. The sound that escapes him is barely human, and he suddenly wishes his hands were free, wishes he could touch Lance back or bury a hand in his hair, at least.

“Yes,” he gasps out, and he manages to open his eyes, not remember when he closed them. His head is resting against Lance’s shoulder, his back pressed to his chest, and he would’ve thought Lance would be looking at his face. Instead, Lance is staring down at Keith’s body — at his cock — with rapt attention. His pupils are dilated, sweat beading at his temples.

When Keith looks back to the crowd, he realizes that there are holoscreens there, too. He doesn’t know how he and Lance are appearing on them, doesn’t see any cameras anywhere, but the sight is definitely one to behold.

Keith, flushed everywhere and looking thoroughly fucked despite not having been fucked yet. He just looks debauched, his robe having fallen down to his elbows at some point, no longer covering much of his body at all, and somehow that seems more obscene than if he were wearing nothing at all. His cock is flushed and hard in Lance’s grip, his body gleaming with sweat, his chest heaving with breaths that Keith now realizes are echoing all around him, a soundtrack paired with the indecent sound of Lance’s hand moving over him, slapping against his skin rhythmically.

Lance, despite not even having been touched yet, looks wrecked himself. He has one hand on Keith, his arm moving quickly, and his free hand roams over everything he can touch, tracing over Keith’s stomach and circling around his nipples, flicking and then pinching in order to make Keith arch away from him, his mouth falling open as he moans.

They’re so lost in it, having accidentally found their rhythm, that it takes them a moment to notice the aide that shows up in front of them, holding one of the lubricants from the table in her hands.

“The king wants you to continue,” she says. “Do you require assistance with the preparation?”

Keith flinches involuntarily and Lance’s hands tighten on him protectively.

“No,” Lance says, except it comes out scratchy and he has to clear his throat before repeating himself. “We can do that ourselves.”

The aide bows, placing the lubricant on the bed before stepping away and thankfully disappearing from view.

Keith is heaving, having gotten closer to coming than he realized in the moment, and Lance is holding the lube thoughtfully.

“Do you mind bottoming?” he says. If Keith could blush any harder, he would.

But, “No,” he mutters. “Fine with me.”

Lance tugs the knot on Keith’s wrist and in one easy motion, it slides off. Keith ends up twisting around, laying on his back as he stares up at Lance, who’s sitting on his knees.

“I’m just gonna,” Lance says, gesturing awkwardly with the lube, before pouring a good amount onto his fingers. Keith spreads his legs, avoiding looking at any of the holoscreens while he does, and Lance scoots a little bit closer as if to shield him from view before pressing a finger inside.

Keith’s done this before, of course, but it’s been a while. The last time he had sex was when he was still on Earth, and that was years ago, now. And he does this to himself nowadays — lube isn’t exactly impossible to find in space — but it’s always been in the comfort of his own room. Where he could take it slow and wasn’t automatically tenser than usual, thanks to hundreds of eyes watching his every move.

“Relax,” Lance murmurs, staring down at him intently, and Keith closes his eyes, trying desperately to block it all out. It works, but Keith thinks that’s probably mostly thanks to Lance. He clearly knows what he’s doing, and the thought of that only makes Keith more turned on, because that means Lance probably does this to himself, alone in his room, right across the hall from Keith…

“Ah!” Keith can’t help crying out once Lance finds his prostate, and Lance puts the knowledge to good use. He pays near constant attention to that spot inside Keith as he increases the number of fingers, going from one to two and two to three expertly, constantly distracting Keith with touches elsewhere, running his hand up his thigh and over his hips and _so close_ to his cock.

“Ready?” Lance says, three fingers deep inside of Keith and staring at him intently, carefully, looking somehow as aroused as Keith feels. He nods, his head jerking against the bed, and one moment he’s lying there, legs spread and Lance regarding him gently, and the next he has his legs over Lance’s shoulders, Lance’s hands on his hips and his eyes suddenly intense and desperate.

The noise Keith makes is one of surprise and, to his embarrassment, the crowd goes wild at the sudden movement, or maybe at the position. Keith’s shoulders and head are on the bed, his elbows propped against it too, but the rest of him is in the air or touching Lance, who’s holding him up easily.

“Deep breath,” Lance advises, and then his hand sneaks between them and Keith feels the head of his cock pressed against him. His hips move, pressing closer to Keith, and the head of his cock pops in easily, pushing deeper into Keith and making his breath hitch in his chest.

“Fuck,” Keith breathes.

Lance’s eyes clear for a moment. “Hurts?”

Keith shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Feels good.”

Just like that, the heat is back in Lance’s gaze and he’s moving, gripping Keith’s hips and moving his own, slamming into him. It’s a position Keith’s never done before, thanks to sheer lack of adventurousness, but he gets the feeling this isn’t Lance’s first time fucking like this. He clearly knows what he’s doing, gripping Keith and fucking him easily, powerfully.

Keith’s bouncing against the bed. He has to tear his eyes away from the screens out of sheer mortification, watching his body move like that, his cock slapping against his own stomach with every one of Lance’s thrusts.

Lance is grunting, letting out breathy little moans every time he fucks into Keith, and Keith himself is gasping, arching off the bed in an attempt to get closer to Lance only to bounce back onto it with every other thrust, unable to brace himself against anything.

“Fuck, Keith,” Lance groans. “You’re so tight. We gotta — we gotta do this more often.”

“Is now the best time to talk about this?” Keith scoffs, or tries to. The words mainly come out between gasping moans, but the audience must find it amusing, because they’re all cheering.

“Right, right,” Lance breathes. “After.” With that, he pulls out of Keith and drops him to the bed. Keith bounces twice, breathless, and then Lance grabs him and flips him over, pulling him right back in. His hand presses down on Keith’s shoulder blades, forcing him face down onto the mattress, and then he’s lined up against him again. “Is this okay?”

Keith moans. Lance gets the memo.

In this position, Lance can fuck Keith even faster, can nail his prostate with every thrust, and Keith’s hands are digging into the covers, bunching them up underneath him as Lance fucks him hard and fast.

When Lance’s hand sneaks under Keith, it’s over for him. He grabs Keith’s cock and strokes in time with his thrusts — in, out. In, out — and then Keith’s cumming, moaning brokenly and twitching around Lance, jerking into his fist and slamming himself back on his cock.

Lance bends over him, breathing hot against Keith’s back as he cums too, groaning low in his throat and jerking into Keith, holding him as close as he can get.

For a moment, they stay like that, just breathing heavily, forgetting exactly where they are. And then the cheers register, the mortification returns, and Lance slides out of him carefully, reminding Keith of how exposed he is.

The moment he sits up, Lance’s hand is on his waist, stroking comfortingly. Already, two aides are coming their way, carrying robes — opaque and floor-length this time, thank God — and they both pull them on gratefully, stumbling off the bed on shaking legs.

The king is grinning at them widely, clapping along with the rest of his people.

“Bravo!” he says. “Encore!”

Keith stiffens. “Humans can only go once,” he says. It’s not _entirely_ true, but…

“A shame!” the king says, laughing anyway. “Makes it all the more special then, I suppose.”

“Sure does,” Lance says. He chuckles awkwardly.

“Oh, stop looking at me like that,” the king says jovially. “Of course we’ll be joining the coalition after that performance. And the rest of your team can return now.”

Two aides are dispatched to retrieve them immediately, meanwhile Keith and Lance stand there awkwardly for what feels like an eternity, bearing the lavish praise the king bestows on them for their “performance.”

It’s not much better once their friends return. They’re all wide eyes and red faces, staring at the two of them as if they’ve never seen them before, which…

Keith catches a glimpse of Lance. The sex hair, the sweat, the bitten lips. Not to mention, he remembers Lance giving him half a dozen hickeys, which are surely visible by now.

“Thank you,” Allura is saying to the king. “We look forward to your cooperation as we—”

Her voice is drowned out once Lance grabs Keith’s hand. When Keith looks at him in surprise, Lance just smiles, squeezing his hand companionably.

“I hope none of that scars you for life,” he says quietly.

“It won’t,” Keith promises. “More like a tentative fantasy that I never want to experience again.”

Lance laughs, still looking at Keith so fondly. “You know, I was really surprised that it was the two of us out there. I didn’t realize you liked me like that.”

“Really? I thought I was doing a horrible job of hiding it.”

“Please,” Lance scoffs. “You’re all scowls and glares. You could’ve tricked me forever.”

“I scowl and glare at you _less_ ,” Keith says. “You should’ve noticed.”

Lance snorts, but he doesn’t drop Keith’s hand. And later, when they’re all safely back on the castle and steadily avoiding ever mentioning what transpired this night, Lance gives him that chaste kiss he’d been waiting for.


End file.
